Song of the Spheres 6: Needs of the Many
by elensari
Summary: There's a wormhole in London? The ATMOS is freaking out? What weird house? Things are afoot for our TARDIS crew and where it all leads is anyone's guess. Rose and the Doctor have stopped in London for a bit of shopping. Donna and Jack head out for a day of fun and relaxing after all the intensity from the previous months after Midnight.
1. Some Paths are Blazed

**1 Some Paths are Blazed**

Dory looks over at Horven as he's driving the carriage along the road, periodically clucking to the trotting skeets, enticing them to go faster. Their syncopated six-hoof beat is a constant reminder of the passing time. She's been doing this every few minutes for what feels like hours. How long can it possibly take to get to the next town?

"Aren't we close yet, Horven? I thought it was only a league or two. That babe's not waitin' for the sun, ya know," she tells him matter-of-factly. Then she feels guilty for snapping at him. He's really been lovely the past few weeks, and she isn't sure how she could have survived without his help and knowledge. Accidentally meeting him that day at market when it felt like everything around her was unraveling, had proved to be a miracle. Since then, he's been nothing but caring, helpful, and generous. He made her feel like herself again, and that was priceless.

"It's almost finished, Dory. You just need to hang on a little longer," he replies.

The charity of her earlier thoughts evaporates into annoyance at yet another enigmatic answer, one that seems to have nothing to do with her concerns. This exasperates Dory, making her shift restlessly on the bench beside the larger man.

It has been hours since she received the summons that the Heartly family were ready to have their baby. She has to be there; she's their midwife. The pregnancy had been complicated enough as it was and she didn't want to lose both mother and child due to Horven's inability to get her there on time. What if one of the babe's little hooves got caught in the birth canal?

Actively pushing the horrific images away, Dory huffs quietly to herself and starts running through the possible scenarios (all with happy endings) that she might encounter when another wave of dizziness takes her. She flails out for the rail with a splayed hand.

Horven kindly lays a hand on her shoulder to help steady her again. _It's just nerves._ _Get it together, Dory!_ she thinks. Just because she's been feeling a bit dizzy for the past couple of hours doesn't mean anything's wrong.

This time, though, the dizziness does not abate, and Dory feels like the entire world is trying to spin out of its orbit beneath her seat on the cart.

"Horven, I think I need to…" she manages to gasp out, before she has to lean over the side of the cart attempting to heave the contents of her stomach to the road, but to no affect. She's never been motion sick before, maybe she's getting a cold.

Horven stops the cart gently, reining the skeets in. They shuffle and snort to themselves, wrapping their long elephantine noses with affection before feeling out to see what might be interesting to nibble in the road. Horven gets down from his seat coming around to Dory's side. The screeching of the metal springs and jostling of the wagon make her senses spin again, and she clutches the railing for support.

Reaching up for her, Horven lifts Dory down effortlessly, ignoring her weak attempts to bat his hands away—always one for independence, his kind and compassionate Dory.

"Shhhh, Dory. It's all right now. It's time. Just let go. Be a good girl now. You've done it. Let go; it's time," he says to her over and over again, soothingly.

His words are anything but soothing to Dory, though. They don't make any sense. What has she done? How can she let go? What does any of that mean?

She tries to speak again, to ask what in the hell Horven's going on about, but she doesn't have the strength. Blinking is becoming too great an effort. The last things she registers beyond Horven's gentle grey eyes are his quiet shushing and a growing brightness. It's becoming overwhelmingly intense as she finally loses consciousness.

The brilliant glare of the large blue sun's light glazes the surrounding desert. The figure of a man is visible standing near a small hovering shape that may or may not be another person. The many-layered robe, coloured in varying shades of black and grey, shifts around him and blows its tatters in the wind that now constantly moves over the vast and devastated landscape. As the wind currents shift these layers about his body, bits and pieces of silvery metal glint in the light as they briefly become visible. His head and face are covered against the grit in the breezes, but as he moves to the side of the hovering young woman, he removes the protection of the cloth from his mouth and bends down close to her. Whispering that _'It's time_ ' into her ear, he gently caresses Dory's temple one last time as she finally succumbs and loses consciousness.

He allows the last of the fantasy that he has spun in her mind for the past several days to slip away. He has found that the Chosen give their Gift more freely if they are calm at its passing. This is a lesson that has come from much time and many experiences. The Chosen shouldn't suffer; this is his one small defiance.

He reaches impossibly deep into the layers of his clothing and removes a bone-coloured staff about a meter in length with a green crystal buried in the point of it. There are silvery wires that twist around the stone and lead down into and around the soft ivory of the staff. It almost seems like the wire creates patterns or perhaps words across the bone rod, but in the glare it's hard to see the glinting metal, and he doesn't need to. Through the centuries, the staff has become as much a part of him as the hand that grips it. He no longer needs the reminders that are pressed into the once living wand.

With a soft, intimate smile gracing his lips, he leans forward, kissing Dory gently on the forehead. His kind and gentle eyes hold genuine affection for the young woman floating near his feet as his gaze takes her in one last time, adding her permanently to the pantheon of other Chosen in his mind.

Dory is dressed simply in the muted browns and greens of the farming people that had once populated this portion of the planet. She looks to be perhaps 20, but the people of this world had aged differently than their human cousins, and she is actually closer to 60. She would still be a child amongst his own people. He silently wishes her safe journeys as he takes a step away from her, careful not to step in the blood pooling beneath the two tiny punctures he'd made at the base of her skull some two hours earlier.

Pressing the point of his staff first to the ' _medical_ ' device that he'd given her at their meeting three weeks ago, the green stone begins to glow with an inner light that matches the one coming from the catalyst device he'd moved to her chest. He next places the point of the crystal to the spot he has just kissed, and pushes her gently down toward the ground with it. As the last drop of the young lady's' blood falls silently to the desiccated, once living sand beneath her, a reaction ignites and a soft glow flows from her. At first the glow gently surrounds her before rapidly turning into a raging inferno, consuming her body completely. The energy from her transformation feeds directly into the green crystal that he has pressed to her forehead.

His timing is, as usual, perfect. As the last of her Gift to him is pulled into his staff, and the catalytic initiator falls to the ground, he feels the beginnings of the building energy that will become their next wormhole start to coalesce near him. Taking a look around at the once lush and lovely planet of Jelaxacor Alpha, he smiles sadly in farewell.

He closes his eyes a moment, silently thanking the consumed masses for their unasked-for sacrifice before he bends down to retrieve the initiator, placing it into his coat. In the process, he pulls out another small device. Flicking on his perception filter, he slides it back into its pocket. Lifting his staff with his right hand, he taps the dimensional disturbance in the air before him with the crystal he has just charged. In a flash of incandescence, it drains itself completely, and he feels nearly pulled apart before he pops into existence on a bustling street corner in an obviously living and very healthy city. Only a little distance from him, a man makes a rude comment about trans-matting anywhere one feels like, and moves away.

Looking at all the life and energy around him, the dark man grins in delight. He should have several days to explore before the inevitable arrival of the Horde, and then another few weeks to locate the next transition point before he has to leave again. He wonders where he is and begins walking along the sidewalks, taking in the sights. Smelling the salty tang in the air and the freshening of the breeze, he turns down a street that appears to lead him toward a beach.

The technological level on the planet is fairly advanced. There are plenty of air cars and transmat stations placed at orderly intervals. Being a cosmopolitan city, he sees several varieties of aliens meandering through the streets, some moving purposefully as if on business, but many others strolling in family units, obviously being tourists. With growing curiosity, he picks up his pace toward the nearby ocean he can smell and its unobstructed view. Where is he?

By the quality of light, he guesses that the sun he can't see setting behind the buildings is a red giant. That narrows the choices down, as does the tech level, but there are still a few thousand options for what planet he's come to in this particular century. Finally exiting the shadows of the high-rises for the lower vacation homes near the beach, he continues moving until he reaches the water.

Doing a slow turn as the twilight deepens, he notices the sky beyond the water begin to lighten—ah, more than one sun. The choices narrow further. Moving down to the water's edge, he kneels, dipping his fingertips into the surf and then slides them directly into his mouth, gauging the content and salinity with his superior senses. High in magnesium and low on salt, interesting— the number of planets narrows further. Straightening, he gazes up into what is proving to be a very short night, looking for determining stars.

His gaze has been fixed on the sky for some time when he registers the sounds of light breathing near to him. Glancing to his left, he sees that a young dark-haired woman has come to stand a dozen meters or so further down the beach to watch the sunrise. Feeling his gaze, she glances his way and gives him a quizzical once-over, but smiles at him before returning her gaze to the horizon.

Mirroring her, he sees the edge of sunlight grow and expand as it begins to rise out of the sea. Not positive until it is further from the horizon, he thinks it may be a yellow sun—narrowing the choices again.

"You're going to be a bit warm, over-dressed like that," he hears from the direction of the young lady.

Startled, he looks down at himself, before turning his now piercing gaze to her face. The perception filter should be showing her a fellow dressed just the way one would expect to be dressed for whatever season it is here… wherever they are. But if she is seeing him as he _truly_ is, then she's the One. The Maestra would be so pleased. She had said they would always find him, and she was right. He didn't even have to go looking this time—what luck, and right at the beginning, too.

"Perhaps," he says enigmatically, waiting to see what else she says. Maybe she will reveal how fully she perceives him.

Stepping closer, the young woman asks, "Are you some kind of actor or something; wearing a costume from last night's show? All that black and the layers makes you look like a mad scarecrow!" Her words more than her friendly laughter reveal that she sees him exactly as he is.

Grinning in delight at this realisation and in reply to her comment, he removes the covering from his head entirely, stuffing it into another of his voluminous pockets. He's just about to turn fully and respond to her when movement at the horizon catches his attention.

Looking to his right, he catalogues that it is indeed a yellow sun, probably a dwarf, but what peripherally caught his notice is the rising of a third sun. Seeing its limb emerge along the horizon's edge with the burst of a green sprite, he knows exactly where he is.

"Oh, you're not from here," he hears his young prize say astutely, the smile evident in her voice. "Well then, welcome to San Helios. I'm Jorilca. What's your name, and what brings you to our beautiful planet?" she asks, bright and welcoming. She'd seen that look of surprised wonder on plenty of faces the first time they see the Twins come up in a double sunrise. It's one of the reasons she loves coming to the beach in the mornings.

"Yes, beauty is exactly why I am here," he says softly, turning back to her. In the quickening light, he can see that she has long, red hair, a pale complexion and lovely hazel eyes. By her blush and the spike in her pheromones, he can tell that she thinks his scrutiny and his words are meant to be compliment for her. That's alright, she can believe that; it will only help.

Laughing a bit at her own reaction, Jorilca tells herself that the gorgeous bloke next to her probably didn't mean _her_ when he said that, but geez, that look—so intense and almost longing. _Down girl_ , she thinks to herself.

He's a funny looking one, all edges and harsh angles, but his eyes are the softest grey, like a dove's feathers. She wouldn't mind losing herself in them, but there's no telling what species he is. With all the layers and the metal bits running up the back of his skull and into his close-shorn, blue-black hair, he can't be human, even if his face looks it. He could be a cyborg, not that there's a problem with that; she believes in equal rights, but it could mean that he doesn't have the capacity for feeling that would make the fling she imagines even possible. That doesn't mean she can't be friendly. She's just started her vacation time this morning, and she has three weeks to do whatever she wants. If that's showing around a super-hot alien cyborg… sign her up! That's just her kind of adventure.

"Well, San Helios is known for that. I was just stepping out to see the Twins rise before I went for breakfast. Care to join me? There's a lovely little cafe down the block that makes the best pastries," she suggests with an easy and enticing smile.

 _She isn't in the least afraid of me,_ he thinks in wonder. That's different. Usually his Chosen take a little… c _onvincing._ But Jorilca is fairly glowing with confidence and genuine welcome. He can't remember the last time he felt anything so pure that wasn't of his own making. In the back of his mind he can almost feel the Maestra raise a disdainful eyebrow.

 _"Remember why you are here,_ " he hears her voice remind him clearly.

He doesn't need the reminder, but silently and automatically replies, " _Yes, Maestra._ "

He knows exactly what he's doing. He doesn't enjoy his appointed task, no matter how necessary, but he does enjoy when the pieces in the game behave spontaneously. It makes the passing time more interesting, and there has been a great deal of time. His work is important—the most important work in the Universe. That's what the Maestra had told him all those many years ago.

Glancing back at the suns one last time, he smiles his agreement at the invitation. "I would love to, Jorilca. Please, lead the way."

"Great! You'll love it. I didn't catch your name, though. Breakfast with strangers is intriguing, but not nearly as much fun as getting to know a new friend," she teases him lightly as they begin to trek off the sand and back up the street towards the aforementioned cafe.

Surprising himself with a genuine chuckle, he decides this is going to be a very fine time indeed. "New friends… yes, that does sound better. I am Lost."

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Jorilca exclaims as she abruptly comes to a halt, not realising that she was taking up his time with flirting when he probably had people worried sick about him. "Do you have to be somewhere? Maybe I can help you find whatever you're looking for, or your friends," she says, placing a sympathetic hand on his arm. Their breakfast is entirely forgotten in her desire to help him.

 _So human_ , he thinks with an inward smile. "No, my dear girl, that is my name, Lost," he tells her, briefly overlaying her hand with his own.

Blinking at him and trying to decide what to say that won't be insulting to his species or sound incredibly stupid, she defaults to non-committal. "Well, uh… that's interesting."

Maybe his name doesn't translate well into Standard. Shrugging to herself, she chooses to accept it without question. "Still up for breakfast then, Lost?" she asks, eyebrow raised in friendly invitation. The relaxed and happy curve back in her smile

"Absolutely. I don't wish to waste one moment of this lovely San Helios day," he tells her jovially, gesturing for her to lead on. Surprising him again with her easy manner, Jorilca slips her arm through his, completely ignoring the ridged flanges of metal that she must be able feel beneath his robe, and gently starts leading him up the hill, nattering on about the soon-to-be inconsequential details she thinks he might find fascinating about the city around them—her home.

She has no idea that his fascination with the planet began and ended the moment he found her. Though he knows San Helios well from a completely different time, and part of him grieves for its loss, Jorilca is now his only focus for the time being. The newly reformed Horde of Travesties will be here soon to devour this, another planet he has lead them to, but in these last few days of grace, he plans on enjoying Jorilca—the Chosen Gateway to their next destination. Just as he had enjoyed the weeks spent with Dory on Jelaxacor Alpha and previously the month on Romalax with Noldo. Jorilca, is already proving to be unusually special. Lost looks forward to seeing how else she will surprise him.

* * *

Hello! It's been forever! I can't guarantee that I will be able to publish this in a timely fashion, but I am determined to get back up on the horse after falling off 3 years ago when a computer crash ate the last 3 chapters I had just written and were unrecoverable. That took the wind out of my sails, but I have been missing the writing.

There's been so many kudos lately, it's inspired me to pick this up and continue it. I have the first 4 chapters written and some notes on where I was heading, but I will be rewatching a few episodes so I can remember what my convoluted thoughts were on all this.

Thank you for still reading and enjoying my AU. I will enjoy comments and look forward to sharing my story with you. Cheers!


	2. Biscuits and Buses

"I don't see why we have to go back to London for groceries. We have the entire Universe, more or less; we can get eggs and milk almost anywhere," the Doctor whines, though he sets the coordinates that Donna requests.

"I have one word for you, spaceman… one word: _slugbacon_. The groceries will come from a good English Tesco, and that's the last I'm going to say about it," Donna replies. The arm-crossed, hair-tossing glare that the Doctor receives is enough to send him scurrying around the console on the other side of the Rotor, and make Rose laugh out loud as she steps in to help pilot at the control panel he just vacated.

Jack enters the console room, sliding into his long wool coat, wondering what's going on. Reading his expression, Rose answers his question before he asks it.

"We're just about to land in London 2009-ish, Jack, so Donna can have real English groceries. I'm also desperate for more teas to choose from, and I'm positive the Doctor filched the last of the chocolate biscuits."

Rose glances sideways toward her husband just in time to catch the indignant expression as his head shoots out from around the time rotor with an exclaimed, "Oi! I know I left the last one for you, Rose!

"You did, you prawn! Amidst an entire heap of empty bags and crumbs; that I had to clean up, mind you. How you can eat all those biscuits and stay so skinny escapes me," Donna huffs, eyeing the Time Lord in his slim brown suit which is today paired with matching maroon shirt and trainers.

"Seriously, you two, there can be more biscuits," Rose says while laughing at them. With a gentle whump, the TARDIS lands them exactly when they want to be, and with a quick glance at the monitor, Rose can see a Tesco just a few blocks away.

"Why don't we make a day of it?" Jack asks, sliding up beside Donna and wrapping his long arms around her. Her involuntary giggle completely destroys the withering look she had still been aiming at the Doctor.

"A day of what?" Donna asks as the scent of warm, happy Jack surrounds her. _Oh, I adore this man!_ she thinks dazedly.

"A day of being on Earth." Jack replies happily. "Let's go eat fish and chips, see a movie, go someplace on the tube, maybe ride the Eye. Let's have a day in London, doing London things. What do you guys think? Wanna join us?" Jack asks the Doctor and Rose as well, not wanting to exclude them.

Before the Doctor can answer, Rose pipes up, "We might catch you up for that movie, but you should go and have some fun, just the two of you. Call us when you decide on a film, and we'll get the groceries since it's just down the lane."

With a squeal of delight, Donna grabs Jack's hand. In a flash of her green jersey, flying red hair, and his long coat, they're gone through the doors of the TARDIS.

"Wife, that was extraordinarily well played," the Doctor says as he steps around the Rotor to wrap his arms around Rose, leaning in to press a kiss to her temple.

"Thanks! I figure it might be nice to be by ourselves for a while. We haven't done much but hang out in the Vortex for the past three weeks since Pompeii. I could tell Donna was getting a little edgy."

"Edgy? Is that what you call it? I'd say—"

"Ah, ah, you've been a right pill yourself, mister. I swear you're related. No one knows which buttons to push faster than a sibling. You should have seen Shareen and her sister when we were kids—like cats and dogs they were, always at each other over the stupidest things. Anyway, I'm just saying that we all needed a break. London is familiar to everyone, so it seems like a good place." Snuggling back against his chest, she sends him a warm mental hug to match the physical one they're enjoying.

"Rose, it's a brilliant idea. I'm sorry." The Doctor returns the mental caress with one of his own, shading it with regret for letting his mouth get the better of him… again.

"Nah, let's not start with an apology; we've got fun to have, mischief to manage. It's April outside, and I'm going to go grab a hoodie, back in a mo'!" Turning in his arms to plant a quick kiss on his nose, Rose is out of his reach and humming her way down the hall before the Doctor really has a chance to register her leaving.

"Women," he mutters, and the TARDIS blows a raspberry in his mind. The Doctor is just about to follow his wife, thinking that perhaps he can distract her with a quick, frisky romp in the shower when the console nearest him beeps and a light starts flashing urgently.

"Oh, really? What are you then?" he asks, slipping on his completely useless spectacles and perusing the readings. Flicking a couple of switches, he moves to the secondary console and pulls up a series of images on the monitor. "What have we here? There you are… noooo, no, no…. oh, you moved… _moved_? Right, well, I'll need…"

Mumbling to himself as he moves around the flight deck collecting things, he is halfway upside down in a storage bin beneath the tertiary console when Rose re-enters the room several minutes later.

"Doctor?" Not getting an answer, she kicks the bottom of his trainer and tries again. "DOCTOR!"

"Rose!" There's a solid **_thump_** and a muffled, "Ow!" before she hears him say, "Hang on, I only need one more piece." Crabbing his way back out of the storage bin, the Doctor appears, rubbing his head with a forearm. His hands are full of random bits and bobs.

"One more piece of what?"

"Sorry? Ah-ha! There you are, Rose." Slumping against the base of the console, the Doctor holds up some sort of diode triumphantly for her to see. "Found you, you little useful thing, you," he says to it, and then goes about fitting it into a small device he pulled out with him. He has a smudge of some substance right across his forehead where he'd rubbed it.

"Looks like you found a right mess, Doctor," Rose tells him with a giggle. Pulling a handkerchief from somewhere out of her pocket, Rose wipes the smear of grease off his skin.

With a satisfying click, the diode snaps into place and the device whirs to life, emitting a series of high pitched beeps.

"I need to detect Rhondium particles, Rose," the Doctor says, using his sonic to make slight adjustments to the settings of his detector.

"Oh? Do you now, and why is that?"

"Because somewhere outside the TARDIS there's a hole in the fabric of reality and it's fluctuating. Those fluctuations will release Rhondium particles, and this will pick them up. The more excitation, the closer we are to the hole." He grins at her winningly, and Rose feels her hearts do a little flop at how handsome he is.

"Why of course, how silly of me to ask," she replies with her own grin and a bit of an eyeroll. Finally wiping the last of the grime from his head, she leans forward to give a quick kiss to the spot. Getting to her feet, Rose holds out a hand to help her husband up.

"What? Oh," he replies sheepishly when he realises he has been rambling on. Standing, he focuses on explaining, "When you left for your hoodie, the scanner beeped and the Continuum monitor started blinking, so naturally, I ran a couple of tests—"

"Naaaaturally," Rose drawls, crossing her arms and desperately trying to hide her smirk as she leans back against the railing beside the console, waiting for the full answer.

"Tests," he emphasises, ignoring her posture, "that show a hole trying to form in the fabric of space and time, right outside. The distortion keeps moving around though; it's not stable. So I built this to locate it. See this little dish?" the Doctor asks as he turns the screen on the palm-sized device in her direction, "It will help us find the anomaly."

On the face he tilts in her direction, Rose can see an oval in bright blue that's bouncing all around the screen. As she watches, it shrinks into a small circle and the little machine lets out a single, sharp beep!

"It works! Brilliant, me!" the Doctor says with the grin of an excited twelve year old, holding his arms wide for a celebratory hug.

Laughing, Rose embraces her husband. "Well, of course a day off for us would be an adventure. Let's go find this hole in reality, shall we?"

"Rose Tyler, have I told you lately how much I love you?"

"You just did, so… yes, but now I believe I deserve a kiss for being so amazing," she tells him, poking her tongue between her teeth in her signature grin.

"Cheeky," he says, grinning back. Then, sliding into a familiar Northern drawl he pulls Rose tight against his chest, looking down into her caramel-coloured eyes. "Come 'ere, I think ya need a Doctor." The quickening of her hearts at his tone and the little gasp that escapes elicits a possessive growl from the Doctor, and it's a few more minutes before they exit the TARDIS hand in hand, laughing.

"Doctor! Really. I just need to get these groceries back into the TARDIS. Then I promise we can go find this anomaly. Now carry something, and don't you dare point that gadget of yours at any more people!" Rose handing him the other six bags forces the Doctor to slip his detector into his pocket. With an exasperated huff, he takes the bags and follows Rose toward the parked TARDIS which is several blocks away.

"Rose, that was an accident!" he whines, trying to explain. "The Rhondium detector kept going off. How was I supposed to know Torchwood placed a Clonethian family here?" Her silence is enough and he sighs heavily, following behind and carrying the bags he's been given.

Marching back to the TARDIS, Rose starts feeling guilty for being so mad. The surprise had frightened her was all, and she had actually been the one who had behaved poorly when the Doctor had stuffed his device right into that alien's face—it had looked just like a baby. When it had growled at him, "Look at the big one when you wish to address the host," In the absurdity of the moment, Rose had lost it; it was the final straw that broke the dam holding back her emotions. She's not feeling proud of her behaviour in retrospect. She'd screeched, flung a box of biscuits, and had pulled the Doctor behind her while dropping into a defensive crouch—in the middle of the TESCO aisle, no less.

The Doctor and the "baby" both had started to chuckle at her until another shopper had entered the aisle. Instantly, they all had fallen back to playing their traditional roles. The Doctor had helped Rose stand back up, complaining about the slippery floor; the "baby" had cooed and the "big one" had placed several items in the cart. Once the oblivious man and his mumbled shopping list had left the aisle, the real conversation had begun.

Keeping his eyes riveted to the "big one, this time," the Doctor had explained that Rose hadn't met any Clonethians before, and would they please accept their deepest apologies. The "baby" had nodded graciously and sotto voce, had then shared that their family had crashed in the vicinity a few months prior, and the head of Torchwood had placed them here until their ship was repaired. He had been surprised that not only were there other Torchwood operatives in the area, but that they would be so uninformed. The Doctor had run with the idea and had spun them a rambling yarn about an impromptu visit to nearby family friends, just picking up groceries for them, "We'll give your best to Jack… Ta!"

Rose is still embarrassed as she reflects on the previous hour's behaviour. She'd sounded just like her mother, and had reacted like a complete greenhorn. She'd led her Torchwood team on loads of missions with weirder aliens than the Clonethians before she became sick in Pete's World. This embarrassment had then made her short with her husband, and now she's regretting it.

Rose stops at the door of the TARDIS to set down a couple of bags so she can click the door open. _Nice trick. Thank you future Doctor_ , she thinks nearly every time; this isn't one of those times. She can't seem to get untangled from the bags, and nearly flings them to the ground in a frustrated tantrum when she hears the click of her husband's fingers behind her. The TARDIS door swings silently open.

Hunching her shoulders in further humiliation, Rose steps into the TARDIS and finally extracts herself from the all the plastic handles. "Next time we're bringing a bloody bigger-on-the-inside reusable bag!" she yells as she steps away from the pile.

Turning toward the centre of the console room, Rose feels tears prickling against the backs of her eyes. The TARDIS caresses her mentally but remains silent, bathing her with comfort and understanding. Behind her, Rose can hear the Doctor add his bags to the pile, also remaining silent. Through their bond, she can feel his concern for her and that's the last thing she can take.

"I'm sorry! Doctor, I'm sorry," Rose says miserably, turning back to him as he sets his own bags to the floor. "I was surprised and awful, and then I took my bad temper out on you, and… I'm so sorry." She struggles against the tears, but they seem to want to spring out anyway. What the hell is wrong with her; she's tougher than this.

"Rose, my love, don't cry—it's all fine. No harm, no foul, right? Everything's okay; you're okay. I promise," he tells her soothingly as he steps in and pulls her against him, gliding his hands up and down her back in comfort. Their bond flares at her distress and wraps them together mentally, as well.

"What do you mean _I'm_ okay?" Rose asks, wiping at her eyes.

"Well, it's been nearly six months since… well, since Midnight and your hormones are fluctuating as your system returns to normal. I could taste them on your skin earlier when we were… ummm… wellllll, you know." The Doctor's ears turn pink, and he scratches the back of his head, ruffling his hair in sudden shyness.

Rose laughs a little wetly at his embarrassed display. "So all this is just PMS?"

"Time Lords don't menstruate like humans do, but basically… yes. A Time Lady's body is always in a state of fertility you see—"

"OH, MY GOD!" Rose interrupts as a sudden realisation and dread fills her. Reaching out desperately, she grabs his coat sleeves in her fists and shakes him. "We haven't been using any kind of protection! Doctor, I'm not ready. I can't do that again!"

"Rose, Rose, calm down, luv. I've taken care of everything. No surprises, promise," he tells her calmly, cupping her cheek against his palm. Her immediate terror and uncertainty pulls at his hearts, but he understands. Losing their unborn child will stay with them both for a very long time.

Rose takes several deep breaths, still clutching the Doctor's sleeves as she tries to wrap her mind around his words. "What have you taken care of? Are you slipping me something with those vitamins?" she asks, narrowing her eyes at him. Realising what she'd just said, her eyes go wide in remorse.

The Doctor chuckles at the swift and contrary reactions. He reaches out to brush a tear from her lashes and caress her cheek. "Oh, Rose Tyler, I love you. No, I slipped something in my own vitamins months ago. No reason for you to be the one on birth control. It's much easier for me. Only blanks until we decide otherwise, together. Okay?"

Nodding, Rose lets her husband wrap her up tightly in his arms and supportive emotions. The TARDIS adds to the sensations of love and security, and Rose eventually feels more like herself. She sniffs and straightens, looking up into the Doctor's warm gaze. "Thanks. I guess I needed that."

"It's alright, my love. We managed the groceries, and the Clonethians are still safe. Though, I would disagree that you sounded like your mother, by the way."

"Oh, God! You heard that? Ugh. Sometimes I do not like this whole telepathy thing," she says, blushing and looking away.

"Oh, don't be silly, Rose. How many times has my mouth gotten me into trouble?" he replies with a grin. She smiles back at him, knowing he would never have admitted that if Jack and Donna were around.

Rose is just about to answer him when the detector in his pocket gives a series of urgent beeps.

"Oh! I nearly forgot! How could I forget, seriously? Come on, Rose; let's find that hole. The TARDIS will tidy up." The Doctor bounces impatiently at the door leading out, eyes locked on the device as he holds his hand out for Rose.

Rose sends the TARDIS her gratitude as she moves to take her husband's outstretched hand. Immediately pulling them through the doors, the Doctor heads to the right, down the street in the opposite direction of the Tesco.

Rose takes a few steps with him, but trips on the laces of her trainers.

"Hold up, Doctor; my shoes." She drops his hand and goes down on one knee to tie her laces.

The Doctor, on the other hand, heard her, but is completely engrossed in the rapid beeping from his little detector. Following the signal, he inadvertently steps up and onto a bus.

Rose looks up from her shoes just as the bus begins to move forward. She can clearly see the Doctor's form through the window of the doors.

"Doctor!" she shouts at him and sees his head whip up in surprise. Rose starts to run after the departing bus, assuming she can catch it at the next turn. The signal they are tracking must be coming from that direction.

She sees the Doctor point excitedly at the device, grinning at her through the window. Rose is just thinking what an adorable idiot her husband is, when he glances down at the device quickly and then back up at her through the window, his mouth forming a broad, 'Oh!'

 _-Rose! The hole, it just grew! It's right—_

His telepathic explanation is cut off as the entire bus slams into—and then through—an enormous disturbance in the air. Looking like a rock flung into a reflective lake, the surface of reality around the bus warps and then swallows it whole. Rose watches, horrified, as her husband, the other passengers, and an entire double-decker London bus just vanish.

Rose stumbles to a disbelieving halt, blinking at the empty street. She's just about to reach out for her husband telepathically, when another smaller distortion parts the air and a tall figure wearing a long, black leather coat steps forward. His head is swathed in a tattered piece of cloth, only allowing his eyes to show… eyes that abruptly close as he sways in place, clutching his head.

"Who the _hell_ are you?" Rose asks, her earlier anger flaring at the fear she can feel clawing at her belly. "And what have you done with that bus and my husband?"

The man blinks at Rose owlishly for a couple of seconds before he narrows his eyes at her appraisingly.

Rose abruptly feels a light tapping in her mind, a polite telepathic greeting. In that same instant, she realises that she can feel this man in a way very similar to how her husband is always casually part of her awareness.

Suddenly, Rose gasps, wide-eyed, bringing shaking fingers to her lips as comprehension dawns. Looking at the man again, but with different perceptions, Rose sees his energy swirling around and interacting with the dimensions much the same that it does with her and the Doctor.

"Oh, my God! You're a Time Lord!" she exclaims.


	3. What's in a Name?

When she first looped her arm through Lost's to lead him to her favourite cafe, Jorilca had no idea how he would touch her life. This enigmatic and unusually alluring stranger immediately captured her attention. What better way to spend her holiday than showing off her home to this visitor? He was looking for beauty—well, she knew all of San Helios' loveliest nooks and crannies.

Sitting down to a light breakfast with Lost on the very first day of her holiday, and his very first hour, they chatted amiably over Jorilca's croissant and tea. Lost had nothing to eat, but asked her many questions about San Helios City, her life, and her interests. He would cleverly side-step any of her own questions without her realising his intent, continually learning more about her.

In this way, they began a pattern that they would maintain for the week they stayed in San Helios City. This first day, after breakfast, Jorilca lead him around the streets, through her favourite parks, and past her favourite buildings, regaling him with their history and her own memories of them. At the end of the day, Lost walked with her to her door, and with a polite bow, bade her goodnight along with, "… and perhaps we will meet again in the morning." Shy for the first time that day, Jorilca thanked him and closed the door softly, leaning against it with a sigh as she thought back over the day.

"What am I doing?" she asked her cherritt as the small blue-furred reptile rubbed against her legs, humming its greeting. With an inquisitive trill, he sat back looking up at her.

"I know, I know, spending the entire day with an unknown alien, blathering on about myself, and constantly thinking about how hot he is must be the stupidest thing I've ever done. Tell me about it, Rasil. This is exactly why I didn't want this holiday; I'm better at work. At least I don't make a fool of myself there." Jorilca knelt down and gathered the purring cherritt into her arms.

He patted her chin with his dextrous little hands asking, " _Rrrrrasssillll_?" His small, sensitive crest of tendrils waved in the air, picking up the uncertainty in his mistress' mood.

"Exactly!" she replied explosively, dropping her pet onto the back of her sofa. "But he's so fascinating! We had the best time. He…" Pacing in front of her window, she continued working through her thoughts out loud to the cherritt.

Cherritts were a small, rare native species of slightly telepathic reptiles. They were extremely choosey with whom they spent their time. Often they would appear on a person's doorstep, and it was thought extremely lucky when they picked you as their person. Rasil chose Jorilca three years previously, arriving on the best and worst day of her life.

Watching her pace back and forth indulging in her monologue, Rasil sensed her true feelings, and he wouldn't let her talk herself out of the experience. She needed this. He loved her very much, but in the privacy of his reptilian thoughts, he knew the she was lonely. He wanted her to be happy, and so he sat up, trilling at her to stop her pointless steps.

" _Rrriiiilca_?" Rasil called out.

Jorilca froze in place, turning to gape at the little blue creature. He had only spoken something other than the word that she took to be his name exactly twice before. Different intonations of "rasil" had been their method of basic communication for the three years they'd lived together.

On the same traumatic day that all her joy was a slate wiped clean by sudden loss, he had arrived on her doorstep. He'd said, " _Ssssaaad_. _Heeelp_?" He'd held his little hands up to her, balancing on his tail. In a daze, she'd bent down and picked him up, immediately feeling some of the grief-fog lift as she'd petted him, and he'd soothingly trilled at her, rubbing his head against her cheeks, softly lapping up her tears and defusing the ache of her loss.

The second time had been only a couple of weeks ago. Jorilca had been sitting near the window reading by the dying light of the Twins. Rasil had been curled up in her lap, sleeping. His twitching finally distracted her from her story, and Jorilca looked past her book to see his tendrils stiff in agitation. The usually hidden fangs had shown brightly in the failing light as he grimaced at the intensity of his dream.

Dreaming wasn't unusual for him, but this distress was new. Without considering her actions, Jorilca had reached out and stroked his fur, laying a soothing hand against his head. When her fingers had brushed his rigid tendrils, he had flinched awake, snapping at the air with his many sharp teeth.

She had snatched her hand back, startled. Rasil had met her eyes with his own, their colour an unusual murky brown instead of his usual bright gold and said, " _Riiilca. Baaad commmmess_."

"Wa-Whaaat?" she had asked hesitantly, amazed to hear him speak after three years of not.

At her voice, he had shaken his head and coughed. Scratching behind his ear with a rear claw, he had then turned his restored bright gaze up to her, trilling, " _rrrrasssiiil_?"

She had then laughed, patted him, and proceeded to forget about the strange moment—until now.

"Rasil?" Jorilca asked, stopping beside his perch on the sofa.

His little blue-furred head nodded at her, his scaly face managing to look concerned. " _Riiiilca. Lonely. Pprrrrrents_." His voice was soft and some of the consonants are obviously difficult, but he got his point across instantly.

Jorilca felt her heart clench at the memories her perceptive friend's words had conjured. Interestingly though, the pain was far less than she expected. It had been three years, but the day her parents had died was not one she'd likely forget. But she realised that it wasn't the day Rasil wanted her to remember, but her parents specifically.

Lost had asked her about her parents earlier, and she had shied away from the question, replying only that they had passed. He hadn't pressed her on the subject, probably assuming it would distress her. Now, poking the memories as if they were healing bruises, Jorilca allows herself to remember.

Rasil had soothed her through the worst of her grief. She'd had no one else to turn to at the time, what with all of her university friends going home; and when she had felt completely alone, he had patiently listened to her pour her heart out, telling stories, and sharing with her new little friend what had made her parents special and how they had shaped her.

Katrin and Sacha—Jorilca's parents—had been a study in contrasts.

Sacha Stracany had been a quiet man and talented musician, specialising in the stringed instruments from many different species and cultures. His unparalleled skill and musical knowledge had taken years of travel as a thoughtful young explorer, working his way on various freighters to many other systems, learning from each new people's own artists. Everyone he had met took immediately to the scholarly and hard-working youth. In trade for their songs and instruments, he had helped wherever he was needed. His perceptive spirit had helped him know exactly what would be needed of him in any given situation.

Later, returning home to San Helios, he had traveled the world's cities, enchanting people with his music. Jorilca's parents' story had been that it took only a single Rigellian love-song for Katrin to fall in love with him. A few weeks later they had been married, and within the year, they'd had a daughter. The young family had continued their traveling for several more years earning their way around San Helios through music and combined charisma.

As a young girl, Sacha had often told his daughter, "Jorilca, my love, watch and listen; feel with that big heart of yours. People will always tell you what they need if you're quiet enough to hear them."

With adoring eyes, her reply had always been, "Yes, dada." Eventually she had learned to understand what he had meant, and she had learned that she too had that talent, though none of the musical abilities had been passed to her. Sacha had laughed at her attempts, but soothed her frustrated tears when the music wouldn't come to her clumsy fingers or her squeaky, young voice.

"Jorilca, my love. Music is only one way. It doesn't matter how you share your love and your spirit. The important thing is that people leave feeling better than when they arrived. You, my girl, do that with just a smile. _That_ , is a true talent. I actually have to work at it with my music." Softening his tone to barely a whisper he'd leaned in close and had continued quietly, "And your darling mother requires all the help she can get." They had giggled together as they had listened to Katrin arguing outside with a local peddler about his taking them to their next destination via his skiff. Her strident and firm voice had easily been heard within the small house they were given for their stay.

Over their years together, the lifestyle of traveling San Helios' large and small cities whether in the middle of continents or between islands had primed Katrin for her own budding career as a travel agent and tour guide. She had a very unique knowledge of all San Helios' most interesting places as well as relationships with all the most necessary people; the ones who would show her future client list the very best time.

When Jorilca was old enough to need proper schooling, the Stracany's had settled in San Helios City, the largest of the planet's many population centres. It would have plenty of places for Sacha to play his music and would offer the best chance for Katrin to get her business off the ground. Jorilca had initially hated being stuck in one place but she had eventually come to love the city as much as she had the traveling.

She'd grown up bathed in the love of her parents and their bright spirits, each with their own wisdom to impart. He father's quiet solidity coupled with her mother's fierce adventurousness had sculpted Jorilca into a confident and compassionate young woman. They were very proud of her scholarship and how sought after she was by San Helios itself and the diplomatic corp. Jorilca didn't have a talent for music, but she did for languages and she had been noticed early.

During her final week of University, Sacha and Katrin had left on an impromptu twentieth Anniversary trip to a nearby moon. It was Katrin's first off world journey, and Sacha had planned everything as a surprise.

It had been after acing her final exam, on her final day of University. Jorilca had been walking home for once, rather than transmatting, just to enjoy the day and her own happiness. She couldn't wait to tell her parents that she would be graduating with top honours when she picked them up that night. She had been nearly to the door of their house before she'd seen the two men and one woman dressed in formal San Helios military uniforms. Assuming it had something to do with her promised position in the government, Jorilca and met them with smiles. Confused by the dower expressions that met her joviality. It had been some seconds before Jorilca had understood their words: _freak flyer accident… all souls lost… unrecoverable._

"We're so very sorry, Miss Stracany."

As these bittersweet memories swept through Jorilca's mind, Rasil's intent struck home. He wanted her to remember her adventurous parents. Their bright and shining hope for her; their love. She'd been living in a haze since their death, faking her way through life. Successful, but not happy. Today, she'd felt alive.

She realised that what she'd savoured, watching newcomers enjoy San Helios' unusual sunrise, was that spark of life she felt at seeing their delight. Showing Lost San Helios today was an extension of that enjoyment.

That realisation, broke her out of her reverie to find that Ol' Red was setting, Rasil was curled up asleep in her lap, and hours had passed. He rolled lazily against her stroking hand as she petted him awake, smiling at his welcoming chirps and hums. He sensed that she felt more settled, and he completely approved.

Rasil was right, she had been lonely. Looking out the window again, Jorilca wondered if Lost would be at the beach again? As the thought struck her, she knew for certain that he would be. Tossing a protesting Rasil from her lap into the chair behind her, she rushed from the room to shower and freshen up. It wouldn't due to look and smell like yesterday when it was about to be tomorrow.

Jorilca reached the beach just as the first of the Twins touched the horizon with its fiery edge. The silhouetted shape standing between her and the ocean was one that she instantly recognised— Lost.

Over the next week, Jorilca showed Lost all that San Helios City had to offer. From the observation towers at the top of the highest skyscrapers to the spaces beneath their plas-crete foundations where the archaeologists were finding remnants of the civilisation that had once populated the system.

Lost chose not to educate the scientists on their findings. He knew exactly who had once inhabited this entire section of space and while they were long gone, they weren't entirely forgotten.

As they left the underground viewing gallery, Lost felt the tension in the fabric of space. The Horde was going to come through no too far from here and the wormhole was building. It would only be another week at the most before they pierced the veil between Jelaxacor Alpha and San Helios. Then they would begin feeding.

He and his Chosen needed to leave San Helios City.

Lost was walking out of the under-city tunnels, deep within his thoughts of leaving with Jorilca. He was considering his options for leaving and where they might go.

"Aster!" Jorilca blurted out, as she bounced along beside Lost.

"Sorry?" Lost asked, pulled from his thoughts.

"Aster!" Jorilca said again astutely, unknowingly prescient in her declaration, doing a little circle to walk backwards in front of Lost as she spoke. "We should head to Aster, the lower continent. Aren't you tired of the city yet? I am."

Jorilca spun around again, grinning up at Lost a moment before continuing her thought. "Remember when I finally told you about my parents and all the traveling we did? I haven't been back to the Lonely Isles since. We could see the Wind Caves, the Blue Hole, the—"

The abrupt bark of laughter from Lost stopped Jorilca's list of potential activities as she gaped up at him. Trust the young human to sense his needs.

"Aster it is, Jorilca. I look forward to continuing the tour with my most capable tour guide," he told her as she blushed and sputtered trying to hide her pleasure at his words.

The pleasure wasn't one-sided. Lost was enjoying their time together… very much. He was nearly able to forget his true purpose in the light of such a delightful and spirited companion. But last night he had finally slept for the first time since his arrival and he'd been painfully reminded of why he was on San Helios.

He had found a hidden and comfortable hollow amongst the dunes near his habitual meeting place on the beach. Arranging his cloak around himself he had allowed the exhaustion that had been building to take him. And as was always the case with his dreams, they were memories rather than fantasies created by his tired brain. This night had been no different, and his mind had supplied him images and impressions from his youth.

He had been the top of his class at the Academy. Gallifrey only had a graduating class of cadets once a decade and after a hundred and twenty years of rigorous schooling, he would finally graduate as a master Physician.

He had been leaving the Citadel for his quarters in his Chapter's tower when she had stopped him— the Maestra, as he would call her later. At this first meeting he had bowed deeply to her, saying politely, "My Lady Rani, it is a pleasure."

Of course, it hadn't been a pleasure; he'd actually been a little terrified of her. Everyone knew she was crazy— disturbed, but brilliant none the less. The War Council though, felt her unorthodox ideas and experiments might be their last true hope for ending the Time War, and so she had her pick of the best and brightest from Gallifrey's Academy. The fact that she had just sought out the newest Master Physician did not bode well for the young man's future independence .

Wrapped tightly in the dream, Lost had trembled in remembered terror. He had, of course, been a patriot; he would do whatever was necessary to protect Gallifrey and his people, but very few of her chosen cadets returned… _unscathed_.

From that initial meeting the dream had skipped through the next few years. His family had been told that he was chosen by the War Council to lead a program for Gallifrey's defence; how could they object? Not that they would have. His father had probably been ecstatic that at least one member of their family was finally making something other than a nuisance of themselves in the eyes of the government.

The first weeks had been a whirlwind of travel, barely answered questions, and waiting. He had never known when the Rani would arrive with her odd questions and burning gaze. She had glared at him like he would be her next meal and he hadn't liked it. It wouldn't take too much longer before he found out exactly why she looked at him that way. And mercifully, the dream condensed those particular memories into flashes of half-remembered terror, screaming, and a horrible chaotic glaze of pain.

He had been told the necessity of the changes made to his body. The regeneration-inhibiting drugs they pumped into him to keep him from dying, but to also keep him from changing. They needed his body to accept the… _augmentations_ as natural. Keeping him in a state of constant near-renewal, had forced his body to do just that. The screaming was just an unfortunate side-effect.

The Horde of Travesties had been created and grown in the Heart of a wounded TARDIS. The Rani, as usual, had been unconcerned with any damage her " _progress_ " might leave in its wake so long as her goal was realised. This time her success was unparalleled. Even the Daleks would shrink in fear from her newest experiment.

The Rani had her creations contained in the TARDIS' Heart. With its infinite capacity for space, she could continually grow and rework them, keeping one unlucky specimen out for her tests. An unlooked for benefit of their " _womb_ " was the new adaptability they had inherited. This would give them the ability to change and refine themselves when they were finally about their task.

The worst and final of the Rani's experiments had been bonding the Horde to her Chosen. The telepathic agony projected by not only her pupil but the budding Horde had finally killed the TARDIS. This was inconvenient as the Horde was hungry and if they were to create the break-line between Dalek controlled space and Gallifrey's, they needed to have someplace to go. Unfortunately for Isshay IV, it had become the first in a long line of the Horde's meals, and the cornerstone of the Rani's defence plan.

"Everything will be lost if you are not successful."

"Yes, Maestra."

"Gallifrey will be lost, the Cruciform will be lost, all of Kasterborous will be lost. I, your family, your race, and all of creation that isn't Dalek in origin will be lost to those aberrations from Skaro."

"Yes, Maestra."

"Hmmmm… Lost."

He had nearly opened his mouth in a bit of sass that he had heard her the first few dozen times that she'd reminded him how necessary he was to Gallifrey's survival. He knew it; he felt it, but he was greatly tired of hearing about it. He wasn't exactly sure what would be happening next but he'd been eternally grateful that it was going to take him far from here and far from…

"Yes, Maestra?" he asked timorously. She'd begun speaking and he hadn't been attending. This usually resulted in pain and rage.

"I said, do you remember your name?"

"My, my… name?" He had sought desperately around in his mind, but it had refused to come to him. Disappointing the Maestra, as the Rani had preferred to be titled, was generally a bad and often painful mistake. Perhaps she had taken pity on him for once, for she had reached out her hand and had laid it gently against his cheek, pulling his frantic gaze back to her.

She had then reached up, running her fingers over the top ridges that ran up from his spine and over his skull. His hair had only just started to grow back around the plates, blue-black this time. His startled grey eyes had locked onto her warm brown ones. They could look so kind even when inflicting unimaginable suffering. This time, she had a genuine smile for him.

"No, young man, you are not mad. I actually regret this process was so hard for you, but you really are our best hope, and the fact that you, of all the others, have made it to this point is proof of that. I name you Lost, because without you, all of creation will be."

The dream had ended then and he had awoken still on the beach, twenty-eight minutes from the Twin's rising. He had known Jorilca would be arriving any minute. He had allowed the last of the memory to leave him as he prepared himself for the day, shaking out his cloak and running a hand through his hair. He used a handful of the ocean's water to wipe the last of the sleep and recollections from his eyes. He had no desire to fully remember what had happened to that first planet, Isshay IV. The Horde didn't have its current shape then and the process had been much… messier. Soon San Helios would meet the Horde of Travesties and become yet another dead jewel in the net that was protecting the Universe from the Daleks in this seemingly never-ending war.


End file.
